


Though the Sun is Warm...

by T_WolfXD



Series: A Beautiful Day and Night [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: AU, Hanahaki Disease (only mentions), M/M, Sequel, Suicide Attempt, not canon whatsoever, read my tumblr for more info
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_WolfXD/pseuds/T_WolfXD
Summary: It leaves behind cold shadows.Months pass by after Vincent's death, no more incidents occurring amongst the remaining three. It lingers on in their heads of course, as such a horrific event would, yet...For one, it lingers on more than it should.
Relationships: Jeremy Fitzgerald/Phone Guy, Purple Guy/Mike Schmidt
Series: A Beautiful Day and Night [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968100
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. 11 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by!  
> Also posted to my tumblr, find more info about my works there: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fnaficsfordays

Michael drummed his fingers on the desk, flipping idly through the cameras. He could feel his vision starting to slip slightly as he stared through the fuzzy screen.

“You there, Michael?” He blinked his eyes open at the sound of Scott’s voice, right behind his chair. “Wake up, we’ve still two hours until dawn.”

He let out a long breath, shaking away the darkness starting to seep through his vision. “I’m awake, I’m awake… just not a lot of sleep.”

“Just keep it together, the night will be over before you know it.”

_I know._ Michael gave a small yawn, blearily setting down the monitor, the screen going dim. He ignored the pressing want to lay his head down as well, glancing at the clock. 4 AM… they were nearly done. He was nearly done, and then back to his house it would be. Somehow, it wasn’t a very appealing thought.

He could hear Jeremy and Scott walking back and forth in the office, flicking on lights, shutting doors, opening them, shutting them again, turning on more lights… The minutes were a blur to his mind, as slowly as they went by. Not even a knife could cut through his boredom.

Finally, it hit 5 AM. Only one more hour left… then Michael could start to contemplate his life choices again. And not even in a fun way.

_Not anymore…_

He shook his head again, gripping the monitor. There he went, slipping away again. He had to at least try and keep it together, they were nearly done. Looking through the cameras, flicking through, glancing around… he’d be able to head out soon. Bonnie there, Chica there, Freddy there-

_Ding!_

With a sigh, he dropped the monitor back onto the table, pushing himself out of the chair. He rolled back his shoulders, glancing back at the other two. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah… Hope you’ll get more sleep today!” Jeremy said, giving a small thumbs up.

“We’ll see, we’ll see.” Michael chuckled. “Hopefully.”

_But probably not._

He finally pushed open the door, stepping out into the rising sun. The red-orange light nearly blinded him as he rapidly blinked to dispel the shock, making his way to the car. With a sigh, he pulled open the door, stepping in and twisting in the key. Soon enough, he was on the road- though his focus was only slightly greater than what he’d felt in the pizzeria.

If Michael was by himself in the office, he probably would have been killed a while ago. But he hadn’t been alone for a while- Scott and Jeremy had been in the front office with him for a while now, the three of them helping each other through the night. It had been so for seven months at this point, and they’d all fallen into the routine without much difficulty.

Seven months so far of moderation. A new feeling in his life, one he should have been completely open and welcoming with.

But somehow… Michael wasn’t. This became clearer with each passing day, even more so as he pulled up into his driveway, stepping out and finding his way to the front door, stepping inside into the silence. He leaned against the wall, eyes drooping as he took in another yawn. God he was tired… his usual schedule of sleeping during the day had gotten quite thrown off in the past few weeks. He wasn’t sure _why_ , but surely the state of unrest would leave. Hopefully tonight would be fine?

Yet as soon as he reached his room, he could feel the cautious optimism gradually drip away. He sat down on the bed, trying to keep his gaze fixed on the ground. Yet as exhaustion started to take over, his eyes drifted back towards the bowl of flowers sitting on his nightstand.

_“Aren’t you doing so peachy.”_

Michael felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth as his voice rang through his mind, the pricks of weariness starting to lose their grip. Pushing himself away from the mattress, he cupped the bowl in his hands, looking at the indigo and purple blossoms. Carefully, he picked out the violet flowers, leaving the older ones in the water. As he peered at the limp petals in his hand, he could see the darkening edges, grey wilt starting to form. He poured them out into the trash can, walking back towards the doorway.

He soon found himself stepping back outside, walking on the sidewalk. The sun was now fully above the horizon, the streaks of pink and orange fading from the sky, clouds starting to drift into sight. He made his way through the street, heading for a small shop that was beginning to come into vision in the distance.

Finally, he set his hand on the doorknob, turning it open and hearing the familiar clattering of the bells. He breathed in the sweet, fresh scent, eyes no longer tired or bored at all as he looked onwards at the rainbow of colors around him.

But there was only one color that he headed towards, walking through the wooden shelves, shoes sometimes stepping on fallen leaves and petals. Rays of pale sunlight shone through the translucent glass roof, falling upon his eyes in a gentle manner.

There. His hands reached for a small bouquet, fingers calmly drawing against the violet petals, each soft curl tickling his skin. Michael made his way back to the cashier, holding the roses fervently. He was already fishing out a few dollars from his pocket with his other hand, mentally counting them.

“Welcome to see you again. Same ones?” They nodded, already tapping on the machine.

“Yeah, same as always.” Michael chuckled, passing over the money. He took back the small coins of change, walking back towards the door, pausing to give a small wave. They flashed a grin, waving back as he went back out.

The journey back to his house went by quickly, the fresh green stems light in his hand. It felt like only a few moments until he was stepping back into the shade, the flowers glowing softly in the dim light.

Finally, he reached the bowl, the indigo blossoms inside as beautiful as ever. He hadn’t needed to throw out a single one since he had first found them- they hadn’t wilted in the slightest. All Michael had to do was add the newest flowers in, as he’d been doing for a while.

Soon enough, the violet petals were sitting in the water as well, dotting the bluish landscape. He ran a hand across the top, feeling the edges gently bend against his palm. He gave another yawn, the smile on his face beginning to fade as he sat down on the mattress, letting his head fall on the pillow.

He wouldn’t forget. It was impossible to, when almost every part of his life was a constant reminder… but he wanted that. Even if sometimes it felt like too much… he would never forget. He didn’t want to forget.

_Right?_


	2. 12 P.M.

With a yawn, he pushed open the car door, stumbling as he reached the sidewalk. The nighttime sky, at least, didn’t wreak havoc on his bleary eyes, but it was still an internal battle to fight back the sleepy state of his mind.

Michael had _not_ , in fact, gotten a restful sleep. Perhaps not nearly as bad as some days in the past, but it was far from satisfactory to his physical being. At least the night would wake him up a bit, surely.

He pushed open the door, walking through the hall. He could hear voices talking in the office, light-hearted chatter that made his own head lift up slightly as he grew nearer.

“-half a dozen clasps to keep it down, even at home, I just prefer it.”

“It looks so uncomfortable though. Don’t you sometimes lose your balance?”

“Used to, but I’ve been wearing it regularly for years. It also helps with my awareness of my surroundings- something that’s important around here.”

“What about your sight? I mean, I know you see through it, but…”

“Right here. I’ve grown used to the darkness too, but it’s really not a bother. It’s a physical personal bubble, and I’m not complaining at all.”

“At least the animatronics would have a hard time stuffing you into a suit, huh?” Michael walked through the doorway, glancing at the two of them with a slight smirk.

“See, they _would…_ ” Scott started. “But weighing 300 pounds and having plenty of metal teeth… I doubt it would deter them for long. It would probably just be more painful.”

“That image…” Jeremy shuddered. “I wouldn’t ever want to walk in on _that_.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to.” Scott put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been here for a long time, I don’t plan on leaving the hard way.”

“Bold of you to assume there’s an easy way.” Michael sat down in the swivel chair, picking up the monitor. “We’re kind of stuck here for the rest of our lives.”

“Well, that’s a bit dark.” Scott scratched his mask. “You never know, you know?”

“You didn’t get more sleep, did you?” Jeremy gave a small, nervous chuckle.

He shook his head, putting a hand to his forehead for a moment. “No… don’t think I did, actually.” He turned around. “Do I have circles under my eyes? Is it _that_ bad?”

“Well… yes?”

“Duly noted.” Michael sighed. “Well, hopefully the shift will wake me up a bit. Even if I’m going to spend it in this swivel chair.”

_And, ignoring the fact, that, you know, you’re surrounded by four haunted robots that will kill you any chance they get? Alright, let’s do this._

He smiled slightly at the thought, shaking his head slightly. The dullen state of his mind did die back a bit, though, as the shift started up. He was at least awake enough to hear Scott and Jeremy talking behind him, a bit quiet yet loud enough to be intelligible.

“Do you ever take it off, though?”

“No, why would I? I was never one for outside areas anyways… I don’t even need to take it off when driving. I’ve grown quite used to it.”

“But still, no one ever really sees your actual face. It doesn’t really… bother you?”

“Not really. Haven’t we all removed ourselves from the rest of society, one way or another?”

“You’re not wrong there.” Michael chuckled. “But Jeremy’s got a point. The last time we ever saw your face was all the way back at…”

He trailed off slightly, the memories suddenly flooding his head. The rising sun, the dark iron gates, the sycamore tree, the bouquet of violet roses, _the white stone…_

“...I don’t even remember.” He swallowed slightly, praying they didn’t hear the sudden strain in his voice.

“Surely it hasn’t actually been _that_ long…”

“It probably has- you haven’t taken it off in months!”

“Well, there was no _reason_ to- at least, I never really… saw one…”

“Couldn’t you just show us right now?”

“...”

“Please?”

“Well, alright, I guess…”

He turned around, trying to take his mind away from the memories. Scott was slowly undoing small, hooked clasps around the edges of his mask, hands moving carefully with each small click.

“I don’t… take it off a lot, so it might take… a little while-”

“No, it won’t.” Jeremy giggled, reaching his own hands towards some of the still-closed locks. “Here, I’ll help.”

Michael gave a small smile as he watched, Scott mumbling unintelligible words from underneath the plastic. With Jeremy’s small fingers delicately and nimbly moving around the edge, it wasn’t long until the large, red rotary phone was being lifted off.

“There you go!” Jeremy held the mask in his hands, grinning as his own sparkling gaze met Scott’s.

“Yeah… there I do.” Scott rubbed the back of his neck, blue eyes blinking rapidly. “It’s quite bright after being in there so much…”

“But I still don’t get why you would want to keep it on all day.”

“I’m just not accustomed to looking at my own face a lot.” He glanced away, running a hand through his spiky blonde tufts of hair. “I’m not… particularly uncomfortable with it, but however… it’s much more comfortable underneath the mask.”

“Really?” Jeremy giggled. “But you look really nice!”

“A-actually?” Scott looked back at him with his blue eyes, face flushing slightly. “I-I mean…”

“Yeah, you do!” He set down the mask, eyes sparkling with a slight warmth, a fond smile on his face. “ _I_ think you do, at least.”

Michael watched on, glancing between them, eyebrows beginning to raise slightly. The shared gaze between them… it was quite amusing to see Scott acting so timid for once, while Jeremy was still grinning ear to ear. He shook his head slightly, smirk starting to curl up on his lips. As unexpected of an energy to see between them, it kind of reminded him of himself and-

He blinked, smile fading. Himself… and…

_“Calling me a coward?”_

_“You said it, not me.”_

_“Oh, that is such a dare.”_

_“Is it?”_

_“You tell me.”_

_“Do whatever you will. I’m just saying, you said you would push it down-”_

_“A dare it is!”_

He took in a deep breath, slowly turning around his chair, picking up the monitor again. The memories. The memories were coming back again, he couldn’t keep focusing on them. He said he wouldn’t forget, he _didn’t_ , but…

Michael bit his lip in an effort to distract himself, staring through the cameras. He could still hear them behind him, the chatter sinking into his ears.

“-wouldn’t really try to stop you, I mean, if it really _is_ uncomfortable to not have it on…”

“Well… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have it off a bit more… perhaps just in here, sometimes…”

“Really?”

“If- If _you_ think I should…”

“That’s if you’re comfortable.”

“I think I will be, just perhaps, if it’s… if it’s you.”

“What?”

“N-nothing, nothing.”

He took in silent, shallow breaths, trying to stop the pricks of grief starting to wrap around his heart. It was so _sweet_ , they seemed so close, and they… they…

_They could have been himself and Vincent if only…_

Michael swallowed, trying to will away the regretful thoughts. It was over. It was just wistful thinking, he couldn’t do anything about it. It was _seven months_ ago, for god's sake- it was just a dream of the past that he couldn’t be dwelling on. There was no point now- no point in reminiscing. It was too late to fall in love now. Too late to truly say he loved him.

_And too late to hear him ever say it back…_

No. No more thinking about that- Michael had a job at the moment. Focus- he had to focus, their shift was only an hour away from being over. Dawn would be rising soon- nearly there.

And yet when he was finally stepping out and into the breaking sunshine, even the morning light couldn’t pry away the pricks of sadness clenching his heart. No matter how much he tried to get his mind off the matter, he could feel it. His gleaming silver eyes, the bright, maniacal grin, the unbothered, amused, easygoing yet mad voice… Something swelled up in him at the memories, longing to think about them, to think about him…

He sighed. Michael needed more sleep once he got home… his state of mind seemed to be deteriorating with every passing day.

Keep his head up, keep himself looking forward… seven months. It was all seven months ago, and it wasn’t coming back.

But why did that thought make his heart grow so heavy?


	3. 1 P.M.

He stood in front of the gates, a hand already gripping the metal. He started to push it open, only to pause at the first creak.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He hadn’t come back for so long, he’d stopped visiting just a few weeks after the funeral all those months ago… Part of him had a feeling that this wouldn’t end well.

But his grip tightened slightly as he stared up towards the large tree, barely outlined against the fading streaks of sunlight. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed it fully open, stepping into the grass.

Michael could feel his heartbeat quickening with each step, keeping his eyes fixed on the sycamore. It wasn’t long until he was able to touch the crumbling bark, moving around the pale trunk. He sat down next to a large root, finally looking at the white stone. He bit his lip, swallowing as the memories started to flood his head.

“I’m… not completely sure why I chose to visit now.” He started with an empty chuckle. “I guess the bowl of flowers just wasn’t enough… or maybe they were too much, I’m not… I’m not completely sure of the difference.”

Michael sighed. “Probably an inane reason… but I don’t know if there’s another one to give. Sometimes you just… Sometimes _I_ just reminisce a bit, you know?

“Still not sure why it took eight months for me to pay another visit, though… I thought grieving was supposed to fade out over time.” He licked his dry lips, staring at the soil. “But it’s just… I don’t know _why_ it’s been returning _now_ , and I think it’s actually been… been growing over the past month, and I guess I just… wanted an answer.”

He gave a sad smile. “Not that… you’d really be able to tell me why or anything, but… I don’t know, I’m just rambling at this point. But still, it’s… something’s _happening_ , and I don’t… I don’t get it. I don’t get why I just keep thinking back to you, or why it’s beginning to actually hurt, or why remembering started to become regretting…

“I-I mean, I always _regret_ what happened, and your death, and wishing you’d told me before, but this just… feels different. It’s something… something on its own, I think… and I just want to know what it is. Because I just… can’t figure it out.”

Michael shook his head slightly, staring up at the darkening sky between the branches of the tree. He felt his head lean back against the tree trunk, sighing as he relaxed his muscles.

Even partially covered by the sycamore branches, the night sky was beautiful as he looked onwards with tired eyes. The pinpricks of stars peeking through the leaves, the dark blue sky faintly painted with the last hints of purple and pink. It was even more breathtaking as he slowly watched the crescent moon rise above the treetops, the bright silver curve slicing through the darkness. He’d never had much time to really appreciate it, being on the night shift and all… but it was nice to have this night off, to just appreciate the small things.

“This would have been nice to see, huh?” He murmured the words out loud, only half-aimed towards the gravestone besides him. He looked over at the white stone, letting out a small chuckle. “During the weekend, maybe after a particularly stressful week, out on a hill- or maybe still in a graveyard, since it’s _you_ that we’re talking about… But really, just watching the sky and the stars… perhaps just… maybe just the two of us, side by side…”

Michael felt a small smile come to his lips at the thought. He could imagine it- Vincent probably pointing out weird constellations in the stars, making up morbid stories for each and every one, his smooth yet maniacal voice filling up the night. But maybe, just maybe… there would be a bit of peace. He knew he had more humanity in him than he let on, no matter how he acted… he’d seen it. He’d _read_ it, in his letter…

He felt a pang of that feeling strike his heart for a moment, smile fading slightly. No… there he went again, wishing for the impossible. He couldn’t just… he couldn’t keep on thinking about it, it would never happen, no matter how much he wished it would…

And yet the sharp hurt couldn’t be swayed away. It hurt more than it had in the months prior, grief stabbing at his heart. Why did it hurt so _much_ , it wasn’t as if he could do anything now, he had been dead for so long now, he wasn’t here anymore, he was gone, he…

_He’s gone…_

He exhaled a shaky breath. He suddenly couldn’t bear to keep looking at the gravestone, to keep lying there next to him, to keep staring at the sky underneath the branches.

Shakily, he started to push himself away from the tree roots, standing up suddenly. Breathing shallow, he backed away from the trunk, starting to walk back down from the tree, thoughts swimming in his head as he tried to wipe at his eyes.

He… no. Michael couldn’t be. He couldn’t have been feeling like this _now_ , after months of trying to go back to normal, after he’d promised to remember as a friend, after saying he only _wished_ he could have felt that way…

No, no, no. This was… he couldn’t be. It was so wrong, when he could have had feelings sooner… no. He couldn’t have. He _shouldn’t_ have.

And yet, as he finally pushed open the gate, trying to calm his beating heart… it was. It was there, it was real, it was…

Love.

After months, after Vincent had already died, after the time when it would have mattered the most… Michael was falling in love.

His stomach clenched as he set a trembling hand on his car door, taking in deep, ragged breaths. Michael felt sick as the realization kept on sinking in, mingled grief tearing at his mind. His head was spinning, heart twisting as the conflicted yet truthful emotions ran through his being.

_Can’t. I can’t- it- no. I’m not. I’m not in love, I can’t be, couldn’t be- It couldn’t be. It can’t be._

The memories. All of them. All the moments they’d spent together, all the shifts they’d had, all the pranks, all the banter… he could feel a deep yearning, painful yet longing for them, for _him…_

He swallowed, finally pulling open the door and collapsing on the seat, laying there for a moment as he tried to regain his shattered senses. It was a long, long moment until his breathing slowed back down. He raised a shaky hand to grip the steering wheel, finally pulling the door shut.

Michael was barely aware of the trip back to his house, the streets going by in a blur- though he couldn’t tell if it was because he was so shaken, or from the tears. Even after he’d just pulled into his driveway, he sat still for a moment, tremors in his breathing.

Gulping, he walked into the house, stumbling over to his room in a matter of moments. Shaking his head, trying to dislodge the shock, his gaze landed on the bowl of flowers.

Eight. Eight months old. They had been lying on his nightstand for that long. Eight months in which… he’d thought the grief had been fading away. He thought it had been over for a long time, and yet… the ache in his heart wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael walked over, each step weighing heavily. He picked up a few indigo blossoms, staring down at the soft petals. Tears started to drip down into his palm, breaths shaky as the thoughts rang in his head.

Why couldn’t it have happened before these were all made? Why couldn’t he have felt this way then and not now, he thought it was impossible to fall in love so long after he’d died. This shouldn’t have happened like this, it was…

_Too late to fall in love…_

That’s what he’d said. That’s what he’d _thought_ , all those months ago.

But now it was too late to take it back.


	4. 2 P.M.

His fingers rapped against the door, leaning back on his feet, other hand in his pocket. He could feel the heat of the fading sun against the back of his neck, the sky slowly turning from blue to orange behind him.

“Do you think he’s home?” The timid whisper came from the person besides him, hands clasped together as they looked at the door.

“Hopefully he is.” He ran a hand through his spiky hair. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t be- if his amount of sleep hasn’t changed, I doubt he would be heading out at a time like this.”

Jeremy gave a small nod. “I just hope he doesn’t take the visit the wrong way.”

“He won’t. Michael knows us, and we know him.” Scott stated. “That’s why we’re here.”

“And you took off your mask.”

“That as well.” He felt a slight smile curl up on his lips as he glanced at Jeremy, cheeks growing warm for a second. “I suppose it’s not so bad.”

“You’d heat up out here, anyways.” He giggled, making his heart quicken for a moment. “With the sun blazing overhead, it would be impossible to find it more comfortable with it on.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Scott chuckled. “I suppose as long as it’s not around strangers, I wouldn’t mind having it off.”

Their small conversation was cut off as the door clicked, his grin fading slightly. A worn face peered out, eyes flickering between them. “Scott? Jeremy?”

“Good to see you, Michael.” He nodded. “We just wanted to come over and chat.”

“Right... now?”

“Unless you mind.” Jeremy gave a small smile. “Just wanted to check up on you, you know? You really don’t look like you’ve gotten much sleep even though it’s the weekend.”

Michael gave a slight chuckle, though Scott could see the dullness in his eyes. “You’re not wrong there... sleep hasn’t gotten anymore peaceful for me for the past month.” He backed away from the door, leaving it wide open. “Although it might just be the summer heat starting up.”

“That’s what I told Scott about his mask!” They followed him in, Jeremy’s eyes still sparkling. “How did you even make it through last year’s summer?”

“Well enough.” He rolled his eyes slightly. “It was just a slight price to pay.”

“Sure it was. If you didn’t have the night shift, you’d be roasting in it.” Michael’s voice echoed through the hallway.

“I would never let it go that far.” He snorted. “I know when enough is enough.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sat down in a chair, resting his elbow on the counter. “That’s why you’ve always worn it in the past, huh?’

“It was never in the way. I did my job just fine.” Scott pulled out another chair, sitting in it. Jeremy hopped into another seat as well, next to him.

“Gee, wonder why they hired you.” Michael had a smile on, but he could sense the emptiness behind it. After a moment of silence, he gave a small sigh.

“Michael... how are you _really_ doing?” Scott murmured. “A month of restless sleep has clearly taken its toll on you, don’t try denying it.”

His gaze trailed to the ground, smile dropping. “Yeah... yeah, okay, it has. I’ve just been really tired, not... focusing a lot, but... I hope it’ll get better.”

“Are you sure? It’s been over a month... whatever it is, I don’t know if it’s just going to go away.” He glanced at Jeremy for a moment. “Clearly it hasn’t.”

“Yeah.” He twiddled his thumbs together, biting his lip. “And- and you just seem kind of... kind of sad, especially recently, and we’re... we’re just worried for you, Michael.”

Michael sighed, holding a hand to his head. “It’s... complicated.”

“We’ve got plenty of time.”

“This takes more than just time.” He muttered. “I... it’s something, alright, but... I just... don’t want to think about it right now.”

“Please?” Jeremy leaned forward slightly. “If you’ve been keeping it in for a while, it’s probably not helping. We’ll understand, we promise.”

“Really?” It was a doubtful, hollow question.

“We do.” Scott said. “We’ve... we’ve been there for you in the past, and we’re still here now.”

Michael swallowed slightly, eyes flickering between them. “Well... god, where do I start, I just...” He finally looked back up, gaze wavering slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot. Thinking about... Vincent.”

Scott blinked for a second. They hadn’t said that name for a while- it had generally been a topic that they didn’t touch after his death. But then again... perhaps it wasn’t very surprising that out of them all, it would be Michael. “About... his death?”

“Kind... of.” His eyes dropped again. “It just... started back up about a few months ago, it’s just... back on my mind.”

“Are you okay?” Jeremy murmured cautiously. “I-I mean, I know it was... really heavy, especially for you...”

“I can’t... really say that I’m okay without it being a lie, no.” He gave an empty chuckle, shaking his head. “But I don’t know if I can go into much detail about it.”

“Why not try?” He urged. “It’s clearly been bothering you for a long while, and... we want to help.”

“But this isn’t... this isn’t something you guys know.” Michael let out a long breath. “I just don’t know how to describe it, without...”

“Michael, please-”

“I...” He swallowed, and Scott could hear the tremor in his words. “I can’t.”

“Michael...” Jeremy slowly reached for his arm, but he jerked it away.

“Don’t- please don’t make me say it.” He said, breathing growing heavier. “It’s- I just can’t... The memories are just going to return, I...”

“It’s okay.” Scott said. “We said we would understand, and we will.”

“It’s not you, it’s...” Michael gulped, turning his gaze away. “I-I’ll be right back.”

He suddenly stood up from the chair, walking away from the kitchen and to another room. Jeremy moved to stand up as well, but Scott put a hand on his arm, shaking his head.

“Not yet.” He murmured. “I think he needs a moment alone.”

“But being alone isn’t making things _better_ for him, it’s just...”

“I know. But pushing too much isn’t going to help. We need to be patient. And whatever it is surrounding Vincent... It clearly means a lot more than we first thought.”

They waited, his anxiety growing as the moments went by. Was it _really_ just Vincent’s death that was causing this? Michael was hiding something, and even if he didn’t want to pry too much... he was worried. Keeping it in was making it worse, but if it was so important that he didn’t want to tell them at all... Scott could only worry as he waited for him to come back.

“Should we check?” Jeremy muttered. “He hasn’t left the room for a while, he might be doing even worse in there.”

“Maybe... maybe we should.” He began to stand up, slowly walking towards the door. He gave a small knock. “Michael?”

No response. He backed away slightly, biting his lip. “Perhaps we should wait a bit longer-”

“Wait, shh. Listen.” Jeremy murmured, eyes growing wider.

Scott stopped talking, getting closer. He could hear something- no, someone inside.

Sobbing. Broken, muffled sobbing.

He didn’t hesitate to put his hand on the doorknob, turning it open before Jeremy could speak. “Michael-?”

Scott cut himself off abruptly as he saw him. Sitting on the floor against the bed, shallow breaths coming between his fingers, tears streaming down his face. A slightly wrinkled piece of paper was loosely held in his other hand, his brown locks of hair messily falling in front of his eyes.

He seemed to notice them, jolting slightly as he scrambled away, mingled fear and grief in his eyes. Scott carefully walked forward, approaching him carefully and calmly.

“Michael, it’s okay. I promise, it’s going to be okay, you’ll be okay.” He forced himself to have an even tone, as neutral and peaceful as he could manage. “It’s going to be fine, I promise-”

“It’s not.” The broken whisper came from him. “It- you don’t _understand_ , I can’t-”

“Please. We’re here for you, I promise.” Scott bent down in front of him. “You’ll get through this, we will understand.”

Michael shook his head back and forth, hands trembling. “I- I can’t- just-”

“Michael, please-”

Suddenly, he shot up, a wild terror in his eyes. He stumbled slightly as he stood, breathing rapidly as he stared at them. “I- I can’t keep on _doing_ this.”

“Michael-”

“You don’t _understand_.” It was a ragged whisper. “He- I could have _saved_ him, if I knew sooner and if- if it didn’t take so _long_ for me to- for me to feel like this, it took his- his own _death_ for me to realize, but I was too late and- and now-”

“Michael, whatever it was, it’s _not_ your fault.” Scott said, starting to stand back up as well. “It’s going to be okay, I promise, just calm down-”

“It’s not okay, Scott, it’s-” He swallowed, starting to back away. “It doesn’t leave my head, I could have- if I wasn’t so _stupid_ and I- I might have been able to save him- but-”

Michael choked, starting to turn around. “I- I need to go.”

“Wait, Michael-”

“ _Leave me alone!_ ” The broken sob suddenly burst out, and he shoved him aside, rushing out the doorway. Scott stumbled, nearly falling back down. Jeremy barely caught him, helping lift him back into balance. He stared at the doorway, shock preventing him from straight up running after him.

“Michael!” Jeremy protested anxiously, concern showing in his eyes. “Please just- we want to help!”

No response. A pit of dread formed in his stomach as he moved towards the doorway, sucking in a breath to call out when something crinkled underneath his foot. Briefly deterred, Scott froze, staring down at what he’d trodden over.

A letter, filled to the brim with inked in words. “What’s… this?” He murmured, picking it up.

“What?” Jeremy glanced over at him. “But where’s Mi-”

“He needs a minute to cool off.” He shook his head, still staring at the words. “And… I have a feeling this has more information than he let on.”

“A-Are we going to _read_ it?”

“I am, at least.” But the worries only deepened the further he began to read. _Michael… What is this all?_

_Dear Michael,  
I really don’t know how to start this. If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t know how long I have left, I probably wouldn’t be writing this at all. But if anyone else should know, it’s you. Because as much as this is about me, it’s just as much about you.  
I just have to cough it up, huh? There’s really no point in trying to beat around the bush on this. The thing is, I caught feelings. For you. It’s so easy to say at this point, even though I always thought it would be so much harder, but again, there’s no point in trying to hide it now. I fell in love with you.  
I know, it sounds impossible. The insane, deranged person that didn’t hesitate at the sight of a corpse, falling in love? Surprised me too when I realized. But, no, it’s real. It’s the realest thing to ever exist while I’m writing this. But I think you can tell this isn’t just some confession. I know you don’t feel the same way, and that’s probably the whole reason you’re finding this. Falling in love with you came at a price.  
I found out after visiting the doctor’s office, and as insane as it sounds, I had a disease. Hanahaki Disease. I don’t know how emotional pain can suddenly turn into physical pain, but it was real. There’s apparently been cases of it before, and I was another. It’s caused by one-sided love, and the main symptom is flowers growing in your lungs. It causes a lot of pain in the chest, especially around the lungs and heart, and you constantly cough up the flowers, which is even more painful. Eventually, given enough time, you suffocate and die.  
The doctor did tell me that there were two ways out, though. The first option was an expensive surgery to physically remove the flowers and roots from the lungs, completely getting rid of them. The second option was to get you to fall in love with me too, which would make the flowers fade away. But it wasn’t hard to realize that I couldn’t do either. The surgery was apparently really expensive- and the doctor also explained that it would get rid of my feelings towards you too. Maybe the last part sounds like nothing, but I wasn’t so sure. And as for the second option... Well, I think you can tell that it just wouldn’t happen. I’m the last person that you’d ever fall in love with, no matter how understanding and standardless you are.  
So, I just went with nothing. It’s not fair, sure doesn’t feel like it. Most of which not to you. Because I do love you. I never felt anything like it before- you probably figured that out, especially after I told you about my so-called childhood. But it almost felt like I was regaining a bit of sanity in these past few months, as painful as it was. And I kind of wish that things ended sooner. Maybe before I completely let my mental state go, maybe before I decided to get involved at all with the pizzeria... The things you only realize when you’re so close to death, you know? But I don’t think I would choose a better fate. Sure, it hurt knowing that you would never return the feelings, but still. I love you enough to be okay with that. I hope that you’ll find something other than the pizzeria, no matter how far away in the future. Because you deserve it. You deserve better.  
Love, Vincent._

Scott didn’t notice the silence, the words swimming in his mind. He was barely aware of Jeremy’s own shallow breathing besides him, eyes wide as he glanced over. He didn’t even know how his own face looked, but he knew it was stock-still with shock.

“Oh my god...” He whispered shakily, hand moving to cover his mouth. “He… they… god, Michael, what have you done?”

Jeremy was speechless, only backing away from the paper like it was on fire. Scott could barely do more than set it back down on the bed, trying to slow back down his heart rate.

So that was it. That, all of that… was why.

His gaze slowly dragged upwards from the letter, mouth opening to face Jeremy. But it snapped shut as soon as he did, seeing the lack of his figure from the room. Shoving the letter out of his mind, he darted back out of the bedroom, glancing around. “Jeremy?”

“Scott, he’s _gone_.”

He stiffened at the unusually stark words. “What-”

“H-He _left_. I didn’t- I didn’t see him, but he’s just gone.” Jeremy was pointing a shaky finger at the doorway they had first come through. It was wide ajar, the fading dusk light seeping through the opening.

“I- Are you _sure_?” Scott walked forwards, peering out into the open. “I- He’s- He didn’t even take his car…”

“What now?” He whispered. “If he was headed anywhere, then we-”

“Come on, then.” He slipped the keys out from his pocket, eyes fixing on the car they’d arrived in. “We’d better track him down before night falls.”

“Do you think we can?” Jeremy gulped.

“We have to.” His grip was firm around the wheel as he started up the engine, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he flexed his fingers. _We promised._


	5. 3 P.M.

He stumbled down the street, ragged breaths being taken in with every step. His vision was blurry, both from the approaching night sky and the tears still flowing down his cheeks. He wiped a hand across his eyes in a futile attempt to clear them away, still trembling with each sob that wracked his body.

Part of him wanted to turn back, to go back to the house. He shouldn’t have left so suddenly, he shouldn’t have shoved Scott aside… both of them just wanted to help, to understand. He should have told them, they _promised_ they would understand…

But that small voice of reason was rapidly fading as Michael continued to walk further away, the stars just beginning to show on the skyline.

He felt so sick, so _tired_ of this. Of everything. Every time he laid on his bed, silently staring at the bowl of flowers, every time he returned to the pizzeria to see Scott and Jeremy so close to each other, every single breath he took in…

God, why couldn’t _he_ have had Hanahaki Disease at this point. Anything to at least get rid of the aching pain deep in his heart, anything to stop the thoughts that constantly spun in his head… anything to see Vincent again.

Michael swallowed. Where was he even headed at this point? He was far away from his house, that much was certain. Indeed, it seemed that his feet were starting to find their way back towards… those metal gates, that sycamore tree…

No. He couldn’t keep going that way, he couldn’t take another reminder of how badly he had failed, how stupid he was… no. He halted, suddenly turning the corner on the street, away from the graveyard. There weren’t many other people around to see him… good. Would Scott and Jeremy try to find him? He didn’t even know where he was going to go… but he didn’t know how he would face them at this point.

Hopefully they wouldn’t go this way. He was partially praying that they wouldn’t, that he could be alone for the rest of the night… how would he ever be able to return home after this? To the pizzeria? Michael couldn’t give that explanation, he couldn’t just spill out his heart like that… and what would they really be able to do, anyways?

Nothing. Nothing would be able to help the pain he felt, the lovesick longing that would never be fulfilled. There was nothing they could do, nothing _he_ could do…

_All because I was too late._

He finally stumbled to a halt, reaching out a hand to grip the railing besides him. He would have collapsed if it wasn’t there, barely holding himself up with a trembling arm.

Wait… where _was_ this?

Michael blinked away the tears for a moment, glancing around. A wide view of the darkening sky above him, a thin railing on both sides of the road, which was… was above…

He suddenly peered over the railing, looking down. A wide expanse of flat, dark water beneath, snaking underneath the road and through the other side.

He had wandered long enough to come to a _bridge_? Michael had been distracted, but…

With a sigh, he let go of the railing, resting both of his elbows on the metal. He looked up towards the sky, a tiny, bittersweet smile coming to his lips.

_This really would have been beautiful to see with you…_

The stars were now fully out, dotting the darkness. The last streaks of purple and pink were slowly disappearing beneath the horizon, the sun already underneath. The wisps of cloud were still slightly visible, splashed with the last rays of orange sunlight. And the moon… so full and bright, rising on the other side, a silver beacon of beauty.

Michael gave a small, choked laugh, the mingled bittersweet love and pain twisting his heart. “Why _couldn’t_ I have felt like this sooner, huh?”

He gripped the railing, the tears starting to trickle down his face again. “I wish I could get Hanahaki Disease now… at least I’d be able to join you, to at least not feel so broken anymore… any pain is more bearable than this.

“But this is how it felt for you, huh?” He murmured. “Having your heart ripped out every day with the same intrusive thoughts that sting every time they come to your mind…”

Michael’s gaze trailed back down to the water below, suddenly feeling a thought start to grow in his mind. Those grey ripples down below, flowing beneath his feet. It looked so tranquil. So far away.

So… inviting.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, his grip on the railing tightening as his hands started to tremble. The river stood still, waiting. Watching.

Slowly, as if he was moving in slow motion, his other hand started to grip the railing. He hooked a foot onto the lower bars of the railing, starting to lift himself up. He kept his gaze on the water the whole time, letting his hands feel their own way around.

Soon enough, he was sitting on the railing, hands gripping the metal tightly. Michael stared at the water with dullen eyes, tears still dripping down his face. It was right below his feet… so far away, and yet so easy to reach. All he had to do was…

_Let go…_

He let out a hysterical chuckle. _Dying of a broken heart… just like you did, huh?_

Michael wasn’t even aware of the road, the railing, or even the sparkling sky. All he could see was that expanse of water, a long, long way down. Everything else had faded away, blurred out by his tears.

“ _Michael!_ ”

Even that call couldn’t break through his clouded mind, head still down. It didn't even sound real in his hazy state. He could ignore it, it wouldn’t matter in the next few moments anyways…

“Michael, don’t you dare let go of that railing.” He could barely hear Scott’s voice, let alone the panic in it. His shoulders slumped slightly, letting out a sigh.

“Michael, _please_. Look at me.” The desperation finally lifted away his haze of pain for a moment, turning his head slightly. “ _Don’t do this_.”

He shook his head, eyes beginning to trail back to the water. “You don’t know any of it.” He murmured, barely audible even to himself.

“Please. This isn’t the way, I _promise_ there’s another way.” He could hear his steps getting closer. “We get it now, okay?”

“Do you?” His voice was hollow as he finally turned his head all the way, to look into his sad, sympathetic eyes.

“We saw the letter. We understand, okay? We’re right here.”

_The letter…_

Michael suddenly saw it in his mind, the words ringing through his head. The confession, the realization, the grief, the sadness, the ‘I love you’s’ that meant nothing yet everything now…

“It wasn’t your fault, I promise. There was nothing you could do, things are going to get better, _please-_ ”

“You still don’t know.” He choked out, vision blurring again. “That’s just part of it, you can’t tell me it’s _not_ my fault when… when…”

“Michael-”

“Nine months.” He said brokenly, a sob starting to well up in his throat. “It took me his _death_ , it took me nine fucking _months_ to- to finally get feelings. I fucking- I _fell in love_ with him too late. I- I can’t keep _doing_ this, not when- when it _is_ my fault, and- and I _could_ have done something, if only… if only I wasn’t so stupid.”

“Michael.” Scott’s voice was steady, right behind him. “ _It will be alright._ It’s not your fault, you can get through this. We’re here to help, we’re always here for you.”

“I- I can’t-”

“It is going to be okay. Everything will be okay.” He felt a hand press down on his shoulder, gentle but firm. “You will get through this, I _promise_. Let’s go home, okay?”

Michael didn’t respond, muscles trembling with every shaky breath. He felt his arms carefully wrap around him, lifting his limp body off and away from the edge. His feet nearly collapsed upon meeting the asphalt, but Scott kept a hold on him the entire time, gently pulling him further from the railing.

“We can go home. Everything will be alright, I promise.”

He barely heard the words, everything starting to fade out in a dull roar. He wasn’t even aware of the people that were starting to crowd around them. Scott’s voice was little more than muffled words, blurry to his ears. But one phrase stood out.

_“Everything will be okay.”_

Suddenly, his breathing started to speed up again. His eyes stared around them, more aware than ever- all the unfamiliar eyes boring into them, his heart pounding in his ears, panic and fear starting to close over his mind.

It wasn’t okay. _Nothing_ was okay. He couldn’t return to his home, he couldn’t return to the pizzeria, he couldn’t just face it all again, face his _grave_ again-

No.

No.

No.

" _N-no.._.”

With a sudden burst of energy, he started to struggle against Scott’s grip, heart hammering in his ribs. He barely heard his word of surprise, breaking through his arms easily, breaking through all the stares.

Michael couldn’t. He couldn’t stay, he couldn’t go back- all he could see was that river, getting closer and closer as he ran for the railing-

He heard nothing else around him, none of the shouts, none of Scott running after him- all he could hear was his heart beating in his ears, blood rushing through his veins as he got closer and closer-

His fingers wrapped around the cold metal, he pushed off, and suddenly he was falling, falling down, far down, away from Scott’s outstretched hand, away from the people, away from the pizzeria- closer to the dark waves, to the cold water-

_Closer to him._

Michael didn’t even feel his body hit the water before his vision went dark, the last pricks of pain and love running through his heart and veins as he was ripped away from consciousness.


	6. 4 P.M.

Empty. Hollow. It was all he could feel, all he could see, as he stared brokenly around the barren area.

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. As he pushed himself off of the cold ground, eyes starting to focus, looking around him… it was all nothing.

He was nothing.

Not without…

A sudden surge of emotion ran through his veins, and he stood up, stumbling slightly from the burst of energy.

Was he here? Would he find him? Perhaps… he was waiting for him?

His heart lifted at the thought, starting to walk forwards. He could find him. He had to find him, and he would walk for as long as it took until he did. He _knew_ he was here.

Walking through the blank area, searching for even a speck of that purple coloring against the empty white space, he could feel his heartbeat quickening with each step. He couldn’t think about anything else, there was nothing else… Nothing else that mattered. With each shallow breath, he was getting closer. He could feel it.

He didn’t even care to think about what had happened prior… it didn’t matter. He didn’t care about anything else, all he knew was that he would find him. He needed to find him, he knew he could find him…

Suddenly, he halted, something flickering in his ear. A small whisper? It wasn’t his own steps echoing into the hollow distance, perhaps…

“Michael.”

That voice. That voice was unmistakable, making his heart swell so much that he nearly forgot to breathe.

“V-Vincent?” He choked out, his own voice hoarse as he glanced around. No sign of color anywhere near- _was that really-_

“Michael, you can’t.” It was him, he knew it was him- but the uncharacteristic, lingering melancholy in the words all but shattered something inside of him.

“I-I can’t what?” He swallowed, starting to walk again, looking around. “Where- where are you-”

“You can’t. Not yet.” A sad chuckle echoed through his ears. “I miss you too, but you can’t.”

“You- you know?” Michael whispered. “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t have felt like that sooner, I was so stupid, I-”

“It’s not time yet.” The words were soft, a touch of warmth seeping through. “You can’t leave, there’s still more to do.”

“W-where are you?” He didn’t halt, his steps only quickening as tears started to well up in his eyes. “I- just let me see you, I…”

He trailed off, suddenly staring in front of him. A lone figure against the blinding white, one that lit up his whole vision.

His breaths went shallow, heart beating fiercely as he started to walk forward, pace growing once again. They weren’t turning around, and yet that purple hue… it was unmistakable. It had to be him- it must have been, he couldn’t…

Michael’s steps slowed back down as he neared, swallowing as he reached out a trembling hand. “Vincent?”

They started to turn around, and his heart pounded. Those silver eyes. It _was_ him, it was _him_ , it was-

But suddenly, just as he was about to grasp his hand, the purple skin started to fade away, disappearing as his hand passed through. Before he could regain himself, he lost his balance, collapsing to his knees on the ground, a choked cry just starting to leave him.

Tears started to fall from his eyes, blurring his vision yet not blocking out the sight as he stared at the ground. He was kneeling in a pile of indigo blossoms, the soft petals tearing into his heart as a sob welled into his throat.

Michael scooped up the painstakingly beautiful flowers in his hands, feeling raw grief clench at his heart as he laid there, unable to tear his eyes away from the petals. He was there, he had been right there, and yet…

He was alone. He was alone again, Vincent wasn’t there, no one was- He thought he’d spent enough time grieving when the initial realization had hit, but now all it was all he could do. The pain, the grief, the remnants of his shattered heart… they all struck again, clawing at him even more.

“I’m sorry.” He clutched the flowers to his aching chest, choking on sobs as he spoke the broken words. “God, I’m so sorry, I-”

It was the only thought going through his head as he said them again and again. They weren’t even directed at anyone in particular, not Vincent, or even Scott and Jeremy… he was so stupid, so foolish, so broken…

Michael laid on the petals, trembling with each pained breath as his vision darkened, the pain not fading for a moment. It lingered, just as strong as before, a constant reminder of how much of a failure he was, how much it all meant nothing, how alone he was…

He was alone.

All alone, so cold, so broken…

He’d failed.

_“I’m sorry.”_

His fingers gripped the sheets, tears trickling through his eyelids as he trembled, breathing raggedly. The words were barely audible, but the broken emotion behind it was no different. He choked on a sob, body wracked with grief as he shifted, clutching the pillows.

It was the tears that finally forced his eyes open, blinking as he stared into the white walls. Flinching, he shut his eyes again, tensing up from the hauntingly familiar sight.

“Easy there, easy now, alright?” The murmur made him open his eyes slightly, gaze darting around for the voice. “You’re alright. You’re safe in here, you’re in good hands.”

It was an unfamiliar one, laced with an unreadable emotion. But Michael started to let his eyes open again, looking around from where he was laying. He was gripping at blank white sheets, his head resting on a soft white pillow. A metal railing surrounded him, though it looked much different from the one back at the bridge. A closed window, curtains blocking the view, stood on the wall. He shifted his head slightly, wincing at the ache that came with it. Bright lights shone from the ceiling as well, also a blinding white.

_A hospital…?_ But the last thing he’d remember doing was-

The memories thudded against his head for a moment as he swallowed, the images of that night, those fateful moments, staring at that dark river below the bridge before… before he’d-

Michael took in a shaky breath, throat dry as he started to speak. “How did I- How did I get-”

“Calm down, calm down now.” They spoke again. “Don’t try to move, your body’s still quite sensitive to the aches.”

He finally glanced over to them, looking over a clipboard with papers. Their rheumy eyes, behind a set of glasses, occasionally flickered over him, an unreadable expression on their face. After a moment, they cleared their throat.

“And, as to your question… you were very lucky to have your… friends nearby.” They muttered, setting down the papers. “The ambulance that arrived were quick enough to be able to get you out of the river, and even though you were unconscious… you still managed to make a recovery over the week.”

“I’ve… been out for a week?”

“Ten days.” They sat down next to him. “Your body was covered in bruises from the water, and you dislocated an elbow… but you should be able to recover.”

Michael dropped his eyes away from the doctor, muscles suddenly slumping. He really had failed, hadn’t he?

They let out a small sigh. “You’re not very satisfied with my last statement, are you?”

He swallowed slightly. “I… it’s just…”

“Hard?” They leaned in. “I don’t see how it wouldn’t be, given why you came here. What you attempted is… never a decision taken lightly by anyone. Or made lightly, for that matter.”

“You don’t… that’s just part of it.” He mumbled, hand gripping the railing half-heartedly.

‘“I know it is, Michael. I know it is.” A sudden, neutral yet sympathetic expression came to their face, one that seemed to stare deeper into him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

They nodded, standing up. “I was not the doctor that was initially going to take you as a patient, but after a bit of talking, both with the management, and your friends… I came out of my usual private practice.”

“Why?” He muttered. “I… I don’t _know_ you, do I…?”

“Not directly.” They clasped their hands together.” But I knew him. Vincent Scourge.”

Michael blinked, biting his lip as the pricks of pain started to return. “You were his doctor?”

“On paper, yes.” They gripped the railing. “But ever since I took him in as a client of my office, it was fairly clear that he was no ordinary patient.”

“N-No kidding.” He could only watch as they let go of the railing, walking around his bed in thought.

“Strange indeed. And not just through his skin coloration.” They glanced at him briefly. “Oh, and please just call me Richard. No point in trying to maintain formalities. But… yes, bizarre. Perhaps through his easygoing attitude, or how many times he would stop by for quite casual visits… but it was quite a change of pace from all the other cases of mentally ill patients I would usually have. And his last visit… well…”

“What happened?”

Richard sighed, pushing up his glasses. “It was the visit in which we discovered he had Hanahaki Disease.”

Michael swallowed. “You knew about it?”

“I was the one that told him. I was quite… surprised to find out that he had fallen in love with someone, but there was no denying it. Afterwards, he said that he would try and find out who it was, since he barely had any idea… but for a while, I didn’t know what was to become of him.” He stopped pacing. “He never showed up for another visit, even though I tried to call him. I didn’t know he had even realized, or if he’d made up his mind on what he would try to do… until I received a note from him.

“It was about how he had found out that it… was _you_ , and that… he had decided to do nothing.” Richard bit his lip. “I’ve kept the note with me for a while, it was just… quite the shock. The reasons he entailed for his final decision, for all of it…

“There was nothing else to do.” He sighed. “I received it the day that he passed. And though I’ve mostly been able to leave it behind ever since it happened… now I cannot allow myself to.”

“How much… else do you know?”

“I didn’t pry from your friends.” Richard sat down in the chair. “Even though I was concerned, it would be disrespectful to obtain such sensitive information from anyone but you. All I know is that… it connects back to him.”

“I… understatement.” Michael muttered, feeling the pangs of grief again. “It-it’s just hard to really explain, and- and after what I just tried to do-”

“Again, I will respect your decision to tell me or to not tell me, whatever you choose.” He took off his glasses, setting them down on the nightstand. “But telling someone may help.”

“I… yeah, okay.” He gulped, taking in a deep breath. “It- it just starts with his death, I guess… and after I found a letter that he’d written for me, explaining everything. I was really… torn about it, for a month… and after having a job with him for so long, it was just… a constant reminder, every night afterwards. I-It’s hard to fully describe, but… I _did_ consider him to be a… a friend, in some ways.”

“Strange, yet oddly helpful?”

“Yeah.” Michael said. “But things… things _did_ kind of go back to normal, even if I still missed him. But then… I…”

He trailed off, suddenly feeling the tears start to form as the words dried up. There was a lump in his throat as he tried to keep his thoughts from breaking into the memories, trying to recollect himself.

“Easy, it’s alright.” Richard murmured. “You can talk about this, it’s okay. No one else will know.”

“It- But it _wasn’t_ , I…” He took in a shaky breath. “It wasn’t okay. I- I started to just… fall in love, _months_ after he’d already died, and… I…

“It was so fucking long ago.” His voice was quiet. “Nine months after it would have _mattered_ , after I could have saved him… it took me _nine months_ to finally fall in love. But he’s- he’s gone, I can’t- I can’t take back what happened, but I can’t stop feeling so _guilty_ after it all…”

Michael was staring up at the ceiling, barely noticing the tears streaking down his face and onto the pillow. He was trying to swallow back the lump in his throat, taking in deep, ragged breaths.

For a while, there was no response, other than him picking up his glasses. “He really was a special person, wasn’t he?”

“Special enough for me to _fall in love_ after not seeing him for over half a year, yeah.” He gave an empty chuckle.

He gave a sigh. “I wish I could have something to say… although I fear that I don’t have any true remedy. A broken heart is not so easily mended like a fractured bone… though, at the very least, I can give some advice.”

“Which is?”

Richard set a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle yet firm stare. “No matter what, you are not alone. You will never be alone, if your friends are any proof of that. After you have healed enough physically to be released from this place, do pay them kindness, alright? If my brief conversation was anything, they truly do care for you. You may never be able to let go of those feelings, but there is still a world around you that you need to stay in. Keep them close, and when it feels like too much again, make sure that you can at least remember one truth.”

“What is it?”

He gave a slight smile. “Vincent loved you enough to die and leave this world for you to find something better. _Don’t let it be for nothing_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And we find ourselves so close to sunset..._


End file.
